Bilbo Baggins and the Wizard's Taint
by DerpFox
Summary: Bilbo Baggins meets a wizarding stranger in Bree for a night of pleasure.


The road might go ever on and on, but these days Mr. Bilbo Baggins took it no farther than the Prancing Pony in Bree, a mere stroll out his door in comparison to the There and Back Again of his younger days. Even this journey did not occur very often, only on those long drawn out mornings when his feet itched to feel some movement beyond what they could get walking around his little garden or down to the Green Dragon. There were no dwarves, or wizards, or dragons to push him off on an adventure anymore. He was living a quiet, comfortable, hobbit-approved life, snug behind his round door with his young nephew for company and only a handful of items to memorialize the grand undertaking he had once been a part of. Still, there were some days when the ring of invisibility he still carried around in his pocket (just in case he ran into the Sackville-Bagginses, who were still sour that they had not gotten their hands on his lovely home) seemed to whisper to him of setting off to the East once more, and so he would pick up his walking stick and leave a note for his nephew and walk down to Bree where he could hear bits of news from far off lands and see strange travellers pass through the town gates.

And so it was, one evening in late autumn, which was the particular time of year that he always felt the most like almost embarking on some adventure once more, that Bilbo Baggins found himself taint-deep in a wizard.

This was certainly a new experience, even if it was not the kind of adventure he had envisioned for himself that morning when he had plucked his hat off its hanger and waved good-bye to the Gaffer's son carting up his gardening equipment. It was not the kind of thing he bragged about to the neighborhood children or reminisced about at his nephew's prodding by the fireside. He wondered briefly if he would ever be able to tell this story at all! It would be a shame for it to go to waste, he thought to himself, perhaps when Frodo was thirty-three and properly a man by hobbit reckoning he could tell him about it over a couple of mugs of beer and some strong pipeweed.

Even as he planned this, Bilbo pulled out and thrust back in rhythmically, balancing himself with one hand on the man's fleshy white stomach and using his free one to methodically pull and stroke his hardening shaft, coaxing it erect. He had never buggered a Big Person before, as hobbits called the taller races that they interacted with, but he had still needed to warm him up a bit before pushing into him, reckoning after four fingers that if three was enough for the Hornblowers and Brandybucks it should be plenty for the wizard.

"How is that, Mr. Pettigrew?" asked Bilbo.

The wizard answered with a catch in his voice, opening his mouth widely enough that Bilbo could easily see the moonlight shining dimly on his broad front teeth. "Very… very good. Faster."

Encouraged, Bilbo took his companion's instruction to heart, rocking his hips more rapidly and gripping Peter's stomach more tightly to brace himself as he could not very well prop himself up over Peter's pillow. Even in the midst of their activity, his skin was slightly clammy and damp, although his penis was warming up in his hand. Leaning down for a moment, Bilbo kissed Peter's inner thigh and found it soft and pliable, almost like touching his mouth to the skim at the top of a bowl of milk. Peter's long brown hair brushed against Bilbo's cheek and his own tight ringlets rubbed up against Peter's shaft, causing the wizard to arch up and groan. He had a rather unusual voice, trembling and high, simultaneously breathy and stumbling, as if the combination of his wide tongue and ramshackle teeth was too much for his mouth to bear.

"B-Baggins…" Peter moaned.

Bilbo was starting to breathe harder and he gasped at hearing his name voiced in such dilapidated pleasure. He was very aware of how hard he was and how warm Peter's anus was wrapped around him like heated dough. He began to pound harder into the wizard, sweat beading on his thighs and making Peter's spread legs damp as their flesh slapped together. The salt caused them to stick slightly even as Peter's loose skin slipped and rippled with every thrust. Peter was no longer clammy to the touch, but warm, and as his body temperature rose Bilbo could smell a wafting scent like cheese dregs on a humid day. His heart was racing as he felt himself slide closer to the edge, a trickle of precum aiding his thrusts. In his hand, Bilbo felt warm drops slide between his fingers and he redoubled his efforts, pumping Peter's penis rapidly.

"Say that…" Bilbo said. His words were cut off by a gasp and he pressed his eyes tightly shut, willing himself to hold on until after Peter had come, as he felt was common courtesy when engaging in relations with hobbits, much less with wizards. "Say that I am your Precious."

"My Precious!" Peter cried out immediately.

He sounded frantic, desperate, and his rat-like hands clawed at the thin mattress, uncut nails making scratching noises on the rough fabric and driving Bilbo on to one last rally.

"My Precious!" Cried out Peter again.

His words this time deteriorated into an incoherent scream of pleasure and he spurted in Bilbo's hand in a hot stream that dribbled down his shaft and over Bilbo's shaking hand to fall into his mass of brown pubic hair.

Peter whispered in a shaking voice, "Precious…" and Bilbo could not control himself anymore but came inside of him as he removed his hand from Peter's penis to hold onto his cocked leg. The semen on his hand wiped onto Peter's leg, little white droplets clinging to dark hairs. Bilbo chuckled to himself as he pulled gingerly halfway out, some of his own semen washing back out and onto the bed with the removal, and bent down to press his lips lightly to the moist patch when there was a sudden POP and he felt a tight pinch and sudden freedom on his penis, almost like if he had gotten his finger caught in the top of a bottle and then rapidly yanked it free.

Bilbo yelped in surprise and tumbled over backwards onto the floor. The wizard was gone! He shook his head in bewilderment as he stood up and gathered up his clothes, checking to see that his ring was still in its rightful place in the pocket of his vest.

Bilbo muttered to himself as he dressed, "And here I thought that I was the one with the vanishing act! I suppose there is never any accounting for wizards. What is it that Gandalf says? 'A wizard is never late, nor is he early, he arrives precisely when he means to.' Well then!" Bilbo flapped his hand at the fat rat peeking out from behind the bedframe as he slid the ring onto his finger and stepped out into the hallway. "I suppose it is high-time I get back to the Bagend."


End file.
